I've said it before: I hate disciplining my kids. (Who doesn't, really?) I just want to look the other way. Or hug them. Discipline is so hard. It takes so much, well, discipline.
Sure, there's the odd scenario with Fruit Bat or Kitty Cat when I am so irate, so overwrought, that I relish, just for a moment, the idea of yanking them by their ears to the back of the woodshed. But, alas, we do not have a woodshed and I haven't, as of yet, towed them anywhere by their soft, small lobes.
More likely, something happens like yesterday, when we were leaving a large, stimulating, frosting-fueled birthday party and Fruit Bat, because I was trying to convince him that urinating after four hours of not urinating and before a 40-minute drive home would be sensible, pushed me.
Clearly he shouldn't have done it. It was mean and disrespectful. Totally wrong. I could have fallen to the tiled bathroom floor, I could've been hurt.
But he was tired. He felt somehow out-of-control of his own little destiny.
My thought process went something like this:
He shoved me? He SHOVED me! What do I do? How should I punish? What to take away? Yellow Balloon? Yes, yellow balloon. Screaming. Him or me? Him. Shut up. SHUT UP. What do I do with balloon? Okay, first flush toilet. Take balloon back to party room. Leave it there. He's grabbing it. Wrench it from his hand. I hate doing that. Carry it to the Highlander, kids in tow. Where's Kitty Cat? Just behind me. Herd her forward.
Fruit Bat's still screaming. God, every vessel in my brain is collapsing in on itself. Stuff balloon up in front seat with me.
His shriek has changed pitch. Now more of a whine. New issue. What the hell's wrong this time? His goody bag doesn't have a twistie keeping it closed and Kitty Cat's does? What? WHAT? His goody bag DOESN'T HAVE A TWISTIE? Yeah, well, my sock has a hole and my heart is palpitating wildly. Who gives a shit?
Long drive home. Will he make that awful noise the whole way? Kitty Cat's pink balloon drifts forward, attaches itself to my hair. Whack it backward. There it is again. Whack it backward.
Feel sorry for Fruit Bat. It's been a big day for him. He hurt his ankle twice. Badly. Required ice. Should I give him balloon back? No. NO. Don't waffle.
Should I let balloon go out the car window? Bad for environment. Sea creature might eat it and die. Should I teach Fruit Bat a lesson and make a point of popping it when we get home? Too cruel.
Our driveway. Finally. "J.! They're all yours!" Glad this made him laugh. Here comes Fruit Bat in from the garage still going on about the twistie and the balloon. Must collapse. First, okay, snip hole in balloon when Fruit Bat's not looking and stuff whole thing into trash can. He'll forget about it.
Oof, couch is soft. Feels good. Can barely hear kids from wherever it is J. took them. Don't even care. They can watch TV until bedtime. Until tomorrow night's bedtime. Don't even care.
Want cup of tea. Tea too far away. Will I ever feel refreshed enough to care properly for kids again? Yes, have experienced this level of saturation before and always come out of it. Eventually. Want a nap. Want my laptop. Want alone time with J. How many days has it been since J. and I went on date? Since November 3rd. What is that? Calculating... 154 days since last official date. Wonder if J. would be offended if I mentioned this on blog. Maybe I should find a counter widget for sidebar. Funny or just pathetic?
Perfect analogy for my life. Funny or just pathetic?
Wait, is that Fruit Bat whining again about the freaking wretched balloon?
I can totally relate. My little darling has been getting away with far too much lately and her dad and I have finally had enough. Adjusting to our move or not, she's getting DISCIPLINE. In the last two days, she's had five(!) time-outs, been grounded from her favorite tv show, and sent to bed with no story. And her attitude is still screaming "You're not the boss of me!" If she had a balloon, I think I would pop it. And then feel really, really bad.
Posted by: franticallysimple | April 06, 2008 at 10:53 PM
Yikes! Such an awful, awful day! I think you are right about the sugar fuel. Maybe there should be a sugar consumption age..like a drinking age. No sugar until you are 21. Glad that is behind you..and that you all lived!!!
Posted by: M | April 07, 2008 at 04:01 AM
loved this post. loved it. it captured so much about parenting -- so perfectly.
Posted by: slouching mom | April 07, 2008 at 04:53 AM
I hate to discipline. Then I get pushed so far and Mean Mommy appears. I try not to pop their balloons during this time.
Great post!
Posted by: Lyssa Ireland Thomas | April 07, 2008 at 05:31 AM
All Hell always breaks lose when their tired and overstimulated! Every.time!
Sometimes it feels like they wait for me to be tired to start, both of them, at the same time. Talk about wanting to hide out in a Fox hole.
Posted by: donna | April 07, 2008 at 07:36 AM
O.M.G. It's only 11 AM, but I need a drink after that post. Been there.
Posted by: The Mom Bomb | April 07, 2008 at 08:07 AM
Okay, this is when I pop in the movie Parenthood with Steve Martin or Cheaper By the Dozen just to remind me that this is what it is all about, and it is in reality fun, when we can breathe much later. Hey, about the discipline, sometimes it is just not worth it, sometimes.
Posted by: kendra | April 07, 2008 at 08:37 AM
I once popped a balloon in anger to show him how it felt to lose something. I will never do it again, as it made me feel ugly inside. It was not worth it. Now I pop them long after the kids are in bed and the balloons are withered up in the corner, long forgotten. Parties always bring out the 'best' in the kids. Or should I say 'beast'? Never fails, really. S was asleep 30 seconds after we left! And my J. and I got to go on a date, which I do highly recommend.
Posted by: Leslie | April 07, 2008 at 11:37 AM
Oh gawd, I think you just summed up the day of so many mommies. It's wretched isn't it!
Posted by: noble pig | April 07, 2008 at 09:14 PM
I always dread seeing a balloon because I know someone is going to go ballistic over it. Either they want one the same color. Or she/he has my balloon. Or he/she popped my balloon. Who knew balloons could cause such happiness and misery at the same time.
Posted by: Madame Queen | April 08, 2008 at 11:15 AM
Ah! You're speaking my language. My own growing up was plagued by punishments which far exceeded the crime of which I was guilty. Lengthy, Olympian-style groundings and limitations which guaranteed me food/clothing and a place to sleep, but which effectively cut me off from the few social freedoms I was allowed. My kids aren't undisciplined, but it is hard for me to ground them or deny them something that has almost become a basic right. There is a middle ground, but I don't know where it is.
Posted by: anastasia beaverhausen | April 08, 2008 at 05:28 PM
"Perfect analogy for my life. Funny or just pathetic?" Oh My God! How perfectly do I relate to that?!!!
Posted by: Rita | April 10, 2008 at 01:48 AM